


Sophomore Slump

by ItWasAlwaysYou



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Depression, Disordered thoughts, I just kin Peter Parker, I'm sorry I keep projecting, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Other, also what I do remember makes me very sad and I choose to ignore it, but before far from home because my memory is awful and I remember very little of it, takes place after endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:53:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItWasAlwaysYou/pseuds/ItWasAlwaysYou
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Peter Parker has officially become an avenger and he's survived his first year of high school, barely. He feels like the world is crumbling around him and as a hero, it should be his job to fix this, but the universe seems to forget that he's just a kid. A kid who's seen way more hurt than anyone should have to.
Kudos: 4





	Sophomore Slump

The marimba chime of the god awful iPhone alarm blares and Peter Parker lets out an agitated sigh. 5:45 am and he's already ready to go to bed. But alas it's only time to wake up. As he silences the rude alarm he peels away the warm blankets that once encased his spindly limbs and gets up to find his way to the shower.

This is how he imagines a bat's eyesight is. Everything is dark and fuzzy and as his eyes adjust he checks his phone, quickly skimming the texts from his classmates asking for the last night's homework. It's almost comical, these people hardly know him, wouldn't text him on his birthday or say hello if they saw him outside of school yet they think of him as a good enough friend to copy off of. He almost wishes he doesn't but he sends them photos of the work he spent hours doing the previous night, he'd rather have them think he's nice than have more enemies than he already does.

Stepping into the warm stream of shower water he shuffles his liked songs on Spotify, not caring enough to choose a specific playlist, just listening to what he already knows he'll enjoy. Aunt May doesn't like that he brings his phone into the shower with him, afraid that he'll drop it into the water adding another expense to their collection. But, Peter trusts his instincts even before he's completely awake, and he'd much rather listen to any kind of music than the rhythmic patter of the water and his own thoughts.

As he steps out of the shower he towels off before stepping into the day's outfit. A pair of dark jeans and a light grey sweatshirt with the Stark Industries logo on the front. It was his favorite hoodie, gifted to him by Tony, personally. But as he looked in the mirror he feels almost nauseous looking at it. It was so easy to forget everything that had happened in the past months, _years,_ he had been gone for five years. It was so hard for him to drill into his brain that he had just been gone, for **five years**. He pulled off the sweatshirt replacing it with a black long sleeve t-shirt that he had received to wear when he volunteered to help run a science night for the younger students in the Midtown district with the Math and Science honors society his freshman year. 

Taking a deep breath to try and cleanse himself of the episode that had become almost too common in the previous weeks, he stepped into the kitchen. Quickly fixing himself a cup of coffee trying to be quiet as to evade May. There weren't any hard feelings between the two of them, but after he'd _come back_ things had been tense, to say the least. Of course, she'd tried to help him after he lost Tony but Peter had pushed her away. Afraid that the Parker curse would get to her too. In fact, Peter had ended up pushing almost everyone away. Going through the motions of life, waking up going to classes, patrolling, coming home, doing homework, going to sleep. And then the cycle began again. He did the minimum of what was expected of him at school, showing up, paying attention but not talking with his classmates or opting to raise his hand or participate more than was necessary for him. He occasionally got a call from the Avengers that they wanted his help on a case but that was rare, partially because they could tell he wasn't as eager as he had been previously. He showed up, did what was expected, and left. No time for pleasantries, in fact, he didn't trust himself to speak with half of them, afraid his voice would crack and his entire facade would crumble around him. He placed the lid on his travel mug and grabbed his bookbag, turning the kitchen light off and locking the door behind him. 

He walked to the subway station that was a few blocks farther from his building, opting to let the bitter October cold seep into his bones, at least he was feeling something. As he stepped onto the subway car he grabbed the headphones from the outer pocket of his bag, untangling them just enough that the cord would reach his pants pocket. He poped the plastic buds into his ears and resumed the music that he'd been playing earlier in the morning, this time louder. He wasn't focused on stealth anymore, he couldn't care less about what the other passengers thought of him.

Four stops later he was stepping back outside into the cold. He only had to walk three blocks to his school. Once he got there he stopped briefly at his locker, trying desperately to avoid locking eyes with the portraits around him. He knew if he looked he would inevitably lock eyes with Tony, or Steve or Nat and then he would be defenseless against the flood of emotions that he had been so desperately trying to repress. So instead he kept his gaze low, focusing on the greying shoelaces of his converse as he walked, only looking up to put in his locker combination. He placed his books and lunch into the locker exchanging them for a binder and textbook that had spent the night there. He placed them into his backpack and climbed the flight of stairs to his chemistry classroom. When he arrived he placed his bag on the floor next to his seat and checked the time on his phone. 7:05, ten minutes before the bell rang to start the class. He bowed his head on the desk and closed his eyes. Ignoring the racing thoughts in his head.


End file.
